


The Flash/ 4,15.5

by wordsturnintostories (WingTaken)



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action and Angst, Barry Allen is The Flash, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-31 01:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13964514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingTaken/pseuds/wordsturnintostories
Summary: Team Flash has prevented a nuclear threat to crush Central City from the inside.But now, something else in on the loose - was that  DeVoe's plan all along? Where is he, anyway?It all comes together when an unexpected guest makes an appearance and suddenly, what once was Star Labs doesn't look like a lab in the slightest anymore.There's only one good question left: What on earth is going on?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, this is my first non-Marvel fic. I really hope you like it and I would really, really appreciate your feedback. What can I say?  
> It's supposed to take place in between Season 4, Episode 15 and 16 (since right now, 16 isn't on air yet). I will try my best to keep this going (please consider your feedback can make a huge difference on the tougher days) even when the new episodes are coming in.  
> Also, I am testing something with this fic, which I hope to later include in another, so please excuse anything that sounds unlike the show (I am trying my best to maintain the voice and to model this addition into a fitting and entertaining fragment of the story).
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! I am excited to hear from you :)

“HR, mijas! C’mon, you can’t den HR would make the best president of all,” Cisco insists with everything he’s got in him. As usual, he immediately leads every mind in the room into a new, fantastic and yet uncharted ocean of imagination.

“HR, president?” Caitlin snorts that careful half-snort she has perfected. “We’d worship coffee and recite his motivational speeches every day. It’s a system called madness.” But she’s grinning, visibly enjoying herself in the bliss of their little game that’s currently taking place on the semi-circle of couch-comfort in Barry and Iris’s apartment.

She was one of the first to accept Oliver and Felicity’s invitation to a Spa-Hotel Weekend (of course, Ralph beat her to it). The downtime really did wonders to everyone’s spirits. A team with their amount of work and their number of life-threatening situations (especially the nuclear ones) deserved a recreational retreat where the only hazard would be not finding your room. Also, this game night pretty much was the most glorious finish to the amazing trip Oliver and Felicity had so generously imposed on them as their Team Anniversary Gift (that totally beat last year’s Team Flash Team Anniversary Gift to them, which meant that now, they actually and absolutely had to beat DeVoe because otherwise, they would never be able to give that super-fancy invention Cisco so meticulously planned to Oliver and Felicity in fall and everyone had agreed that seeing the couple’s faces during the opening of the gift would be better than all the Seven Wonders of the World together).

“But a good kind of madness,” Iris agrees when everyone else keeps painting a new timeline in their heads that no one would ever get to see, except for maybe Barry, “I mean, he would probably behave like with us. That’s his default. He’d be the first president with drumsticks and I can’t say I don’t like it.”

“Exactly!” Cisco jumps on the train at the first opportunity. And of course, when it’s about HR, a top-notch impression is due, which now, Cisco is able to perform perfectly with his recent rediscovery of flexibility (it did take three massage therapists, which he is aware of). “Can you imagine how he walks into Congress, all like ‘Sumptuous day, I organized coffee for everyone. Let’s see if I got all your names and orders right.’ And then bows and goes, ‘Until our next communion!’ and that will be the magic cutscene all these Senators won’t manage to skip.”

Everyone is either snorting, nodding wildly, or on the ground, holding their bellies because whatever people might say, Cisco _is_ the best at imitating HR, even if Harry has the potential _and_ the looks. Barry is wiping away tears from his face, struggling to make his giggle stop, Caitlin fans air at her face while Iris just grins all the while ogling Gramma Esther’s white-chocolate cranberry cookies Joe brought over (because Cecile made way more than her pregnant body could ever handle) and while Cisco is still thriving on his adrenaline-high, Ralph just enjoys he happy side of the team even if he’s not in on every insider. More stories of _HR, the President of the World_ are spun, thrilling tales that would’ve made the man in question draw his fancy recorder-pen and slap every word on book pages.

Barry leans into Iris, who readily puts her cappuccino aside so he can rest his head on the pillow in her lap. They both feel a deep satisfaction when watching the whole team blossom in the warm atmosphere. He doesn’t hesitate to throw in some quality comments every now and then but comes to focus more on Iris. It doesn’t take long until his eyes close a little and he hums quietly, only for her to hear, when her hand softly brushes over his neck and the still exciting cold of the ring - _their own wedding ring!_ \- touches his skin. One look up and it’s confirmed that Iris glows and with that glorious, indulgent smile of hers that’s reserved exclusively for him, radiates a sparkly electricity underneath Barry’s skin that he wishes he didn’t have to contain in this very moment.

“I’d make Iris president,” he says instead, because that is the highest declaration of adoration he is able to give to her in this state, and everyone nods approvingly. It’s not a stupid or nonsensical notion at all. Joe’s daughter enjoys giving the team a beat to march along to and frankly, she’s great at bossing them around.

“I get it,” says Ralph, breaking a cookie in half, “ _finally_ , a president who looks good. Go feminism!”

Cisco shakes his head. “Still, not how feminism works.” He can’t help but watch the resurfacing memories, truly indulge-worthy memories that should’ve totally been filmed, because that was the first time he’s seen Barry Allen completely and hilariously drunk, which is something that cheers Cisco up after nightmares, after failed experiments and wrong orders. 

“Alright, next question,” Caitlin goes, fighting the dreadful notion that the harmony of the night might soon be over, and with it, the beauty of a free weekend with best friends, “if you could put any invention or product on the market, what would it be?” 

As anticipated, Cisco Ramon has not run out of lightbulb moments yet. Hundreds of ideas are sprouting from those six inches between his ears, almost enough to make Caitlin regret she asked this question specifically. For half an hour, Cisco is caught in a creative bubble, which might also be a Vibe thing, not that anyone knows for sure. 

Infused with the group’s occasional banter, it all turns into white noise to Iris, who swapped places with Barry, content to let herself go and snore all over the pillow in his lap. It earns her a few affectionate kisses from her husband, and a couple more “awws” from the team, and then Barry just shrugs. 

“At least she’s got one good thing she can do faster than me.”

 

That game night creates a wonderful equilibrium to the ordinary stress living in Central City gets you a first row ticket to (not that life in Starling City or National City has proven to be more peaceful, or less eventful). For the first time in a long time, there are no interruptions, no emergencies, no snake-eyed or seat-tied metahumans. Almost as if the city’s villains needed just as much of a break as the heroes from them. Maybe everyone’s just glued to their tv’s for this year’s Super Bowl, just like Joe.

Everyone arrives home safely, mind set on getting a good night’s sleep before returning to their investigation of DeVoe, who is still stuffed into his pocket dimension, cooking up a new plan to fulfill his life’s purpose and ruin Barry Allen’s life for whatever intangible, psychotic reason that may be.

Cisco leaves with Caitlin, since he insists vibing is no good when he is tired (everyone knows there is a story about Manitoba, but everyone is too afraid to ask), and Ralph joins them before they leave, arranging himself a night over at Cisco’s. Apparently, there is no reason that can be explained in the hallway of the penthouse, so Ralph just scratches his chin, pulls a face like a toddler on his first day of kindergarten, and goes for the most uncharacteristic approach; he keeps his mouth shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will contain more than just one scene and will be updated as soon as those other scenes are done.
> 
> Have fun!

It’s the next day that the team takes time to realize that a) thank God, there’s nothing big in the news they missed during the weekend, just like Oliver Queen promised there wouldn’t be (except for that one boring homicide case that doesn’t seem characteristic for metahuman activity unless metahumans turn into baseball bats now) and b) the spa weekend came with a Monday morning that allows a sleeping-in (since no one on the team really has to show up at their workplace except for Iris).

But even Iris was granted some extra time since Scott emailed everyone about the workmen’s third attempt at fixing something in the office. According to him, their work noise and their dirt turned even simple tasks into a marathon of typing errors, concentration difficulties, and general annoyance, plus dust everywhere, including the coffee tray and mugs and everyone knows that coffee is the ambrosia of the journalist people.

Even so, Iris’s subconscious still hasn’t grasped the luxury adding a golden hue to reality. Instead of valuing peace and rest, it shakes her awake at her regular wake-up time.

“Ugh,” is all the words she has right then, and she breathes, trying to calm her racing mind while her fingers nervously crumple the yellow pastel duvet ( _“Yes, we need_ yellow _. Yellow symbolizes happiness, Barry. I know it doesn’t match the apartment, but we’ve earned ourselves some happiness, don’t you think?”_ ). 

For a moment there’s an air of confusion around her; for a moment it feels like Iris is missing a piece of information, like whether someone wanted to visit them today, or whether she had an appointment with the couples’ therapist. She sits, searching her mind like you search for the light switch in a dark room and when nothing crystallizes, she feels tricked. But then Barry mumbles something, probably something heart-crushingly sweet, and her eyes fall on him. 

Iris notices how relaxed Barry is, laying on his side towards her with his pillow smashed into the right side of his face and his shoulders sprinkled with hundreds of tiny goosebumps. Her mind slows down, eased by the peace in front of her. His legs are bumping into hers underneath the duvet, softly rubbing against hers, a habit she started to calm him from his nightmares. 

“Hey,” he mumbles, eyes closed, lips wide with a smile. Several strands of his top hair fall over his forehead, which, suddenly, makes his face look so boyish, so young, that Iris can do nothing but look in awe at the man she’s accompanied all her life. She slides an arm around his neck, grateful for his warmth and his scent.

 _He’s so unique,_ she thinks, _I bet there’s no one else who smells this good._ Because Barry smells like Joe took one of his jam jars, caught the scent of home, mixed it with the vernal-scented sheet-softener he used in her childhood, the sweet scent of freshly cut lemon slices, and transformed it all into a magic shampoo his children could use. Iris doesn’t know for sure what other ingredients would go into that, but she is no less grateful for them.

“Mornin’,” she greets, snuggling closer, overcome by how lovely it feels to be physical with Barry when all her life, that kind of relationship seemed as far away as the moon from the earth. It was a visible option sometimes, nice to observe, and despite being a wonderful contrast to the dark around it, a mostly pale, iridescent and simply untouchable hope. Now, Iris breathes him in while his breath fans over her bare shoulder. 

“I love you,” her confession is a quiet hush in the big apartment, a quieter hush in Central City and even quieter in the World, but it drowns out everything else for Barry. He finally opens his eyes. Iris can’t deny the joy coursing through her when glorious realization knocks at her soul to reveal to her that she now is, like Barry hoped, the first thing he looks at in the morning. Oh, and how he looks at her. 

“I love you too, Iris,” he says, gently caressing her soft nose with his cheek because he is aware how much she loves that, “are you hungry? I would get you anything.”

“Let’s stay in bed. I can get breakfast any time of the day and I really don’t want to get up and go to work.”

“Wow,” he chuckles, “I can’t believe _Iris West-Allen_ doesn’t want to go to work today.”

“Not if I can stay right here.”

“With me.”

“With the warm bed.”

She shrieks when Barry moves in to pepper her with his I-don’t-need-superspeed-to-be-fast kisses. Also, it makes her victim to his very strategic move (as far as strategic moves can go in a bed), after which she is trapped between his legs, which makes escaping impossible. 

“Are you sure it’s the bed?”

“Oh yeah, hundred percent,” Iris gasps and giggles when Barry tickles her sensitive sides, which is where she’s always been super ticklish.

“But I mean… are you _really_ sure?”

Iris shrieks, tossing around, trying to avoid the I’m-cute-and-I-know-it treatment while the sun outside plays chase with some perfect sheep-clouds against a blue sky. A fresh and crisp breath enters the penthouse apartment through one of the dozens of windows. It ruffles away every reminder of the night.

By now, Barry and Iris are one entangled mess of a couple, moving together every time Iris squirms because while she keeps laughing, her husband is trying to figure out how to get them out of the complicated duvet-wrap-situation they’re trapped in. Obviously, it doesn’t work because suddenly, he slips and makes both of them plop to the ground. 

Laughter fills the room that is bursting with warm sunlight and when Barry tries to get back up on the bed, Iris figures it’s the best shot at resistance she’s ever gonna get. So she reels him back in by the duvet, finally creating a trap the fastest man alive wouldn’t dare speeding out of. Instead, he settles and they lay next to each other on the wonderfully plush carpet and spend their minutes by staring into each other’s faces. 

“I love your dimples,” Iris says and Barry can’t help but smile wider, causing them to embiggen for her. “You do remember how I always wanted dimples when I was little.”

“I remember you put them on your Christmas list.”

She laughs because it’s true.  
“May I remind you what your list looked like?”

He grins sheepishly and closes the distance between them. 

“I was nine.”

“That’s no excuse, Bartholom-“

That’s when Barry kisses her. She lets out an adorable huff, but it’s worth it. Flirting with Iris comes easier than he thought, to be honest, even when they are still learning to be a real couple, a _married_ couple. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that they will be needing as much alone time as they can get. 

Barry is happy, through and through. Happy that it’s Iris in his arms and no one else and that she understands. That she understands everything, from the beginning to the end, even when ‘ _end_ ’ happens to loom over her head for once (although she doesn’t talk about Savitar, which leads Barry to believe she’s not quite done with that chapter).

Right now, though, a certain brilliance shimmers in Iris’ eyes, a calling for adventure that no one but Barry will ever get to hear. He feels his heart thrumming a genuine answer that transforms a simple kiss into a breathtaking spell and an ordinary bed into the only place Barry and Iris want to be.

* * *

Cisco checks his watch. It’s almost the time of day he shouldn’t get looked at funny for ordering at Big Belly Burger. At least, he’s in company. Because it’s not just Barry who has to eat more than ever before to keep his system going, no, apparently, all metahumans acquire a power-up boost to their metabolism along the way. Next to him, Ralph is playing with the ketchup packages on the table while they wait for their food.

Of course, being hungry doesn’t prevent Barry from calling.

 _“Can you come over?”_ It’s not a real question but a request and Cisco sighs deeply before turning to Ralph. Team comes before food.

“C’mon buddy, we’re leaving.” The look of disappointment is unmistakable.

“But I literally just ordered!” He complains, throwing a longing gaze at the cashier’s counter and the kitchen behind it, obviously hoping to get a glimpse of their food.

“It’s Barry, he needs us.”

“Can’t he just… speed over?” Ralph is trying to stall and Cisco knows it.

“Not if it’s that urgent. And if it’s urgent on a Monday morning…nevermind, noon, it’s Central City’s leftovers from the weekend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Prepare yourself, young padawan,” Cisco whispers, not entirely sure if he’s warning himself or his lanky friend that refuses to let the fast food kitchen out of his sight. Someone carries a tray and walks into their direction. Ralph breathes relief and Cisco feels his phone vibrate with a new message.

_“You coming?”_

Ever the loyal friend, Vibe opens a breach, pulls Ralph in with him and successfully swaps Big Belly Burger for a quiet apartment hallway. When they land, a dark grey carpet dampens the noise of their impact and they stand before the door to the penthouse loft that is undoubtedly Barry and Iris’s. Yet Cisco’s knocking remains unanswered; the door doesn’t open.

Instead, he only feels an unpleasant tingle in the back of his head that could mean anything but feels like a buzzing fly that annoys a horse. It takes him a second to realize it’s the breach. Another to understand it’s not closing. A third to grasp the why.

“Would you please take your hand out of my breach?”

“Wow, that sounded a lot dirt-“

“Oh my God. Take your arm back, will ya? Let me close my breach. What do you think the people at Big Belly Burger are gonna do? What are you even-” Ralph is concentrating on something Cisco can’t see and the latter is wondering where this is gonna go. Ah, life would be a lot easier if Ralph would just-

“Oh, yeah, got it. Go ahead.” Ralph gives him a one-hand thumbs-up and Cisco can feel - however strange that might sound - the Silly Putty arm move. He doesn’t like explaining that the breaches relaying data to him via his neural pathways because that just sounds like it’s made up but apparently, that’s how it works. Not that he would ever complain about his superpowers. Not now, anyway.

Right this moment, all Cisco can do is stare at his friend’s retracting arm that steers a full plastic tray through the wobbling hole in the time-space continuum. With their entire order. The breach vanishes immediately.

“Are you kidding me?”

“You’re right. How are we gonna eat all of this on the go?”

Cisco isn’t sure what to say so he just gives himself a minute to stare at the nerve of this other man he thought he’d figured out so well. “At least they didn’t forget the Peperoncino Sauce, they always forget the Peperoncino Sauce. Don’t drop anything.” He gives up, let’s Ralph have this because maybe he really needs it after facing the harsh environment that is Cisco’s apartment in which the only things in the fridge today were cornflakes (why are they in the fridge anyway?) and grapefruit juice. Ramon knows very well that the feeling of standing before an empty fridge borders on betrayal but hey, it’s not like vibing yourself in and out of a grocery store is legal, even if he is leaving cash, even if there are no regulations strictly prohibiting it. In short, Cisco simply has no time to go grocery shopping when his day basically consists of hacking, catching villains and attempting to outthink a mastermind. By now, he basically owes Caitlin three packages of pizza pockets and it’s probably gonna be more until he manages to pay that off.

“Why, because Barry would know you breached us in front of his apartment and that’s not where we’re supposed to be?”

“No, Stretchy Sauce, it’s because I payed for it!”

Ralph shrugs and puts a french fry in his mouth. Cisco dials Barry’s number because the damn door still isn’t open and it feels like they’re wasting time. Additionally, his metahuman scanner insists _the Flash_ is right here when obviously, he isn’t. Cisco’s basically standing on him.

“We’re right here,” Cisco says, “where are you?”

“Can’t see you. Wait, are you guys on the roof? Wait. Nope, you’re not on the roof. Are you…” lightning sparks, Barry comes to a halt and eyes his friends,“…found you. Oh, thanks, but you really didn’t have to.” Before either Cisco or Ralph can blink, Barry has moved and come to a stop again, a trail of red electricity fades behind him and Ralph is holding a plastic tray full of crumpled wrap-paper balls.

“O-kay, how am I still here?”, Cisco groans because secretly, his hopes were set for a variation in his week of boring lunch meals, “Maybe I’ll ask Felicity for another day at the spa.”

“My burgers. It’s all I had left.” Ralph is ready to pour his heart out while Cisco wipes his face with his hands. This day. It’s one of those days. He rolls his eyes. Barry doesn’t understand what the fuss is about.

“First, those were my burgers by law, I payed for them, so don’t you complain. Second, Barry Allen, you got sauce on your nose. Third, you owe me. Fourth, where did you want us?”

“Downstairs.”

 _Downstairs_ is where the street starts. The _street_ is where a carcass of a very dead animal is splayed out for every passer-by to admire. Luckily, it’s in the shadow of the big building Barry lives in or else civilians would have noticed by now and called the Animal Control or the Police. Cisco jumps out of the breach last.

“This better be better than a good Big Bell- GOOD LORD!” He jumps and his voice goes high-pitched. “Stop showing me every manifestation of death in this city!”

Ralph shrieks and almost lets go of the loaded tray. One look at the mess of sticky blood, torn flesh and dark flecks of violently ripped fur and his face turns white. Even though passing out doesn’t seem too far fetched, he catches himself under the concerned gaze of his friends and puts some distance between the dead animal and himself, just to be sure.

“Don’t drop anything,” Cisco warns, “you hear me?” Ralph nods weakly.

“Why did you even become a detective if you can’t even look at a dead animal?” Barry wants to know. Ralph should be fine, since this is nothing compared to real crime scenes where it’s actual people that end up splayed over their entire room and the CSI’s end up with missing body parts. Barry knows Cisco absolutely hates examining the dead stuff but Cisco never passes out. He jumps, and then he’s good, except for his nightmares.

Of course, to Cisco, anything is better than hanging around Star Labs alone and hungry for an entire day, which is one of the worst combinations yet, because he knows very well what awaits him if he does eat Caitlin’s pizza pockets in plain view and they still haven’t restocked, or rather, they had, but it was all gone from one day to the next and Cisco isn’t sure whether it’s wise to investigate Ralph’s guest quarters.

Anyway, Cisco enjoys being out in the open but this day’s sense of fun is deteriorating excessively and suspiciously fast. With a glance at his brother-in-science, the recurring realization hits him; fast is only relative. And Barry doesn’t seem to feel the same way either.

“I called Joe,” Allen says, “According to CCPD, a couple dozen reports have been filed for cadavers of birds, rodents, small mammals and fish. And guess when it started.”

Cisco groans. “The day you came out of the speed force.”

“Maybe they can lead us to the rest of the bus metas?”

“Hopefully. Man, if that day doesn’t become like, a holiday in the metahuman calendar - what? The particle accelerator explosion should be one, too. It started the whole deal. They should make it a holiday-“

“Like _Flash Day_? Hey, what about a _Vibe Day_?”

“That sounds ridiculous, I mean-”

“You brough _the Flash_ out of the Speedforce and back into Central City, right?”

“Whatever. Only if the schools close that day. That would make me a real hero. _Anyway_ , the carcass.”

“Let’s take it back to the lab?”

“Caitlin will love it, should we throw in a card?” Cisco grins and straightens for an impression of God-knows-who, “ _Dear Dr. Snow, as a late birthday gift, may I present to you… a carcass! Personal delivery from Munchy to you!_ Boom. _Munchy_. Now that’s a record, baby! A name _before_ we've seen the meta!”

“ _Munchy_ sounds a little greedy, if you ask me,” Ralph contributes but Cisco won’t have it.

“Shut up, Dibny!”

Barry smiles but there’s a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there just a second ago. Watching his expression shift is like watching gearwheels falling into motion. Something’s up. He squats next to the animal carcass like the CSI he was (is) and studies the wounds.

“What do you see, Professor Layton?”

“Claw marks, snapped bones… I’m trying to figure out if there’s a reason the carcass is here.”

“You think it was placed here? Like cats do with mice?”

“What do you mean?”

“Dante once had a cat. That beast was at least as mean as him. To this day, I don’t know which of them put those dead mice in my bed. Or my drawers. Or my school bag. O-kay, for once I really hope it’s a meta. And I never thought I’d say that.”

“Let’s take it. Do you have a bag or something?” Cisco doesn’t have to search his pockets to know he doesn’t have one. Instead, he turns to Ralph, who had waited very patiently by a near wall. He looks much better already.

“Hey, Ralph. We need the tray.”

 

* * *

 

 

As it seems, Caitlin is experiencing an emotion Barry has never seen on her face before. Could be surprise, disgust, a suspicion towards _‘is this a prank?’_ or something else he hasn’t felt before either. Her eyes track her two teammates.

“So, someone left this piece of roadkill in front of your apartment on a Big Belly Burger tray? That’s gross.”

Cisco buries his face in his hands. “Did I spend the last ten minutes hallucinating or did I actually talk? What is up with all you people today? I feel like I’m the only sane person here, which woah- could totally mean that I am the only insane person here. Ahhhh, let me check the probabilities.”

He grabs a sticky note and a pen and scribbles down numbers so hectically that his hair gets in the way. Jesse flashes into the room, under the invisibility cloak of Flashtime, asks for her Dad, raises a brow, grabs an elastic tie, waits for the go from Barry, puts Cisco’s hair in a nape bun, and rushes off, because she is on her own agenda, which includes training which excludes the assistance of Barry Allen. He is busy, anyway, and moves back to his original position before he releases time, a concept so tangible that he feels it brush over his skin during the transition. 

“That’s not exactly what happened,” Barry starts but Caitlin is still staring at him, eyes wide, unblinking. It’s not enough to make him uncomfortable but he senses that something is not how it should be. Caitlin looks shaken. Cisco matches her expression, touching his bun.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, gripping one of the tables, “that’s gross.”

“Yeah, you already said that,” Cisco sounds a little annoyed. Maybe it’s the speedster’s adjustment of his holy hair, maybe it’s just the lack of food in his body, Barry can’t really tell from the corner of his eye but has his money for the latter. Cisco is hangry, and that makes him impatient, “We came for a more scientific approach than _‘That’s gross’_.”

“No, no, no. _That’s gross._ I didn’t think that.”

“You _don’t_ think that’s gross?”

“Yes. No. Uh, I do think a corpse on a burger tray is pretty disgusting. But I heard Killer Frost. She said it.”

“What do you mean, you _heard her_? Aren’t you two… separated right now?”

Caitlin looks uncomfortable but shrugs. Everyone on the team knows it’s hard for her to talk about it and they usually don’t push her, but now? This is new.

“Every since the nuclear bomb went off and Barry-“

“Every since I pulled you into Flashtime, you’ve been hearing her voice?” Barry realized he hadn’t even thought about that night so much after ending it with a good night’s sleep. What mattered was their success, that the city was saved, but he remembers very clearly that in between all the hectic runs all over the place and the painful exhaustion creeping through his body, Killer Frost had looked at him with worry in her eyes, pleading for _Caitie’s_ protection. It was one moving moment in a frozen world.

“Maybe she found a way to communicate with me?”

“That could be an advantage. We can definitely run a few tests later if you’d like that. Could you examine the cadaver first?” 

Barry knows Caitlin is probably terrified inside because trusting your polar opposite isn’t like looking into the mirror and letting that mirror image decide which take-out to get, not when your life could be on the line, or in the crossfire, or wherever your ominous alter ego squanders off to. The same goes for time remnants, as far as Barry can tell. Plus, _careful_ is Caitlin’s default setting, and not just because she’s a scientist. As an attempt at suffocating her fears, Barry opts for distraction even if he doubts that Killer Frost is planning something (malevolent).

“Sure. Let me get my stuff.”

The examination takes longer than expected and Barry and Cisco, now both in chairs because they spend enough time on their feet, both have their own (differing) suspicions. While fighting over the specifics of Cisco’s theory, Barry tries to explain that his trained eyes picked up on a) overly limp fur with holes in it, making him conclude that an animal bit into the body, pierced the fur and tore at it, stretching the skin with a big amount of jaw power and b) crushed bones with specific fissure patterns, also speaking in favor of an animal with a very strong jaw. 

Caitlin’s theory is based on some of Barry’s observations, proving the skill of his eyes, but reaches out for more data, calling science to aid further investigation. In the end, she figures out more details than Cisco could make up.

“Alright,” she says to get their attention, “I know you have set money. Tell me your guesses.”

“German Shepherd,” Barry says, crossing his arms. He isn’t certain, though.

“Wolf,” is Cisco's guess and the others nod thoughtfully until he adds, “ _Were_ wolf.”

“I really need a buzzer. You both lose. Do you see the impression the attacker’s jaw left on the body of this red fox? The indentations suggest _embiggened_ canine teeth and they first appear right here, around the throat and reach as far as the back as the sixth vertebrae. We’re dealing with numerous, very powerful bites that crushed the fox’s much smaller body. The digestive track completely burst while chunks of the flesh were torn off, probably for feeding purposes.” No one cares that Caitlin says _embiggened_ , it is a neologism that has successfully merged with their standard active vocabulary. 

“What animal attacked the fox?”

“I thought of a large dog at first, too. But the jaw layout and teeth patterns don’t match any canine species, which leaves me with _panthera_.”

“ _Panthera leo?_ Or _panthera pardus_?” Barry wants to know for sure. In the end, it will be him running after this apex predator, so the more information he gathers, the easier it will be to prepare for, well. Whatever plagues Central City. 

“Alright, Masters of Zoology, what are the magic words?” Cisco might be well-versed in hacking terms and the concepts of physics but zoology is not his trade.

“Well, it looks like the DNA sample will have to deliver the specifics, but for now, it could be both, as you said, a lion or a leopard. The other big felines-“

“You’re saying… a lion killed this fox. In the middle of Central City?”

“Or a leopard. The estimated time of death - early morning - suggests we’re dealing with a nocturnal ambush predator.”

“So,” Barry puts together his thoughts, “if it was a lion, wouldn’t it need a pride?”

“You said there were more than a few dozen reports,” Cisco says. “What speaks for leopard?”

“The fox wasn’t only suffocated by a lethal bite that prevented oxygen to enter its brain. Suffocation is a method both lions and leopards use but there are also signs of an impact from at least 15 feet up. Leopards are excellent climbers and regularly carry animals heavier and bigger than themselves up into high trees.” They sit and let the information sink in. A lion, a leopard, maybe a group of them, it sounds like a case for the Animal Control.

“Do you think it’s related to the bus-metas?”

“I can’t say for sure until I see the DNA polymerase results. It could be just animals this time?” It’s hopeful and at the same time sounds ridiculous, which she notices the moment she says it. Grodd wasn’t _just_ a gorilla. Nothing in this city is what it looks like, except for the coffee. Like HR pointed out (several times), the coffee is just coffee and all the more wonderful.

Barry disagrees in the same, quiet manner. He also doesn’t believe it’s going to be a simple story behind the animal cadavers, even if another possible cause occupies his mind. DeVoe has been absent ever since he snatched away those other metahuman prisoners Barry escaped with. So far, everything has been a fragment of DeVoe’s plan, so why shouldn’t this new strange occurrence be, too?

“What if Black Bison was back?” Apparently, Cisco was thinking the same.

“Can’t be, DeVoe took her. Do you think he let her go to distract us?”

Caitlin stops them. “I don’t think she can control live matter. As far as our records go, only inanimate objects fall under her spell.”

Iris stands next to Barry during the last part of their conversation. She furrows her brows, considering the meaning of all these pieces of information. Sensing all the crucial points have been thrown into the room, she wants the team to get going, which is the reason she interrupts, putting the examination and the speculations to an end.

“If you can’t figure out which it is, why don’t you call the zoo and ask whether any of their animals went missing. I can check with the CCPN but I doubt they know more than us. If it’s an animal from the zoo, Cisco can pull up an algorithm to locate it. Let’s hope it’s as easy as that.” 

She grabs Barry’s hand with an extraordinary speed that makes her look either desperate or just afraid he’s about to flash off. Either way, it’s effective. He stays by her side.

“I can work with that,” Cisco answers. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Actually, Cisco, before Barry comes up with concrete stats, I would like you to stop by the Station, flash them your badge and look for anything helpful from _the Cadaver files_.”

Cisco high-fives Iris, “Yeeees, good one! The legacy of Cisco Ramon is alive, baby!”

Iris turns towards her husband and at the same time, Cisco’s moment of joy is cut short because suddenly, Harry stomps into the cortex, and his aura, this grey cloud, sizzling with raw, hidden rage waiting to strike, like most times, shatters the atmosphere that just started to feel like productivity. Cisco can see the team spirit escape through the only and lonely window in the cortex.

“What’s going on?” Harry asks but doesn’t let anyone answer. Maybe it looks suspicious to stand in groups now. On the other hand, it doesn’t take much to irritate Harry anymore (note the ladybug incident last Wednesday).

“Rudolph-“ Needless to say, whenever Harry is annoyed or irritated, he scrambles names. The others still haven’t figured out whether it’s on purpose or just a miserable habit.

“Ralph?”

“Him too. He’s going mad, by the way, good job, _Team Flash_.”

“Hey, we didn’t do anything. Maybe he’s running from your grumpy face.”

“Unlikely. For once. My face doesn’t make people sprint through the corridor and scream _‘check the tapes, he is coming’_ like lunatics.”

Cisco doesn’t shy away from kindling the fire. “It’s definitely up there.”

Barry doesn’t care for the face. “What tapes? Who is coming? DeVoe?”

That’s the wrong question, clearly, because Harry’s face tinges with his natural annoyed-and-no-time-for-pleasantries expression that borders on pure surliness. Cisco knows what’s coming now. It’s official. This the umpteenth round of the brainstorming riff-off they started last Thursday, and Harry is terrible at letting ideas go, especially when he’s upset with whatever Jesse feels free to do (it’s a collective notion among the team that an Earth-2 father-daughter relationship includes a natural spite towards resolving issues like normal people, a notion that led to a mumbled side-comment by Iris the last time Harry exploded, mentioning how a certain therapist on speed-dial could come in handy, followed by a thoughtful chain reaction of nods starting with Joe and ending with Gypsy).

“I don’t know,” Harry shoots back, and Caitlin a biochemistry master would have prepared her for curing Harry’s off-the-charts sarcasm levels, “But maybe it’s better to just let DeVoe do whatever he wants. Let him think, and plan, and gain the upper hand. It doesn’t matter anyway, right, Ramon?”

“Don’t _Ramon_ me. We’re all working on something here, and unless you know something about these rotting animal corpses and the mystery killer that you would like to tell us-“

“Do you think DeVoe will send us a text message ‘Oh hey, Barry Allen will die today, ready set go’?“

“No. We all know that’s not his style.”

“Agreed. It’s not. He’s a little more sophisticated than that. The point, Crisco, we should all be focusing on the main problem here. You didn’t dissect roadkill to defeat Savitar. So unless you have the skill to make him spill, the best way is to ask them.”

Cisco would roll his eyes, but they are already closed. There’s no point in denying the temptation to just breach Harry into the Sahara, or Antarctica, or right back to Earth-2. “Like I said, _Harry_ , you need to work on your way of pitching ideas. You’re worse than evil Wells, and even he knew better than to rhyme. Barry won’t do it.”

“ _Like I said, Ramon_ ,” Harry barks back, “I’m. Not. Him.”

“Guys! What won’t I do?” Barry tries to relieve the tension but has a feeling this is their default team mode for now, and will be until DeVoe is out of the picture. It feels like their spa weekend was months back. He guesses that maybe Harry needed it the most. (Do they even have spas on Earth-2?)

“Harry and I brainstormed DeVoe’s next steps,” Cisco says, “and only seven minutes in, _seven minutes, Harry,_ he said the t-word.”

“Thawne?”

“Transmogrification of the DNA alpha-helix structure?”

“Twix?”

“Uh, no. The t-word, gents. Timetravel-”

“Secured timetravel with distinct quark matter fixation!”

“It’s still timetravel! The Speedforce isn’t that stupid. And I said _no, that’s the dumbest thing you could’ve come up with_ and he insisted that it was the only way.”

“To go back, capture those four meta-prisoners in Flashtime before he’s done sucking out their souls, or… pumping his soul into them, and finally, understand his strategy? I think that’s a pretty solid idea, considering that he wire-connected with their minds, without consent, and left them to die.”

“Absolutely not, I won’t mess with the timeline again, not even to defeat DeVoe. We need to find a different way. I won’t risk any of your lives, absolutely not.” 

Even if no one says it, everyone understands, everyone has seen their friend struggle with himself (which is actually worse than when he struggles with them) and the ugly consequences of his time jumping when he came back from Flashpoint (even if he wasn’t really gone, only technically). It’s not a surprise he agrees with Cisco.

Despite his obstinate mindset, Harry doesn’t start a revolt, not if Jesse’s life could be at stake (why do his father instincts only activate when it’s life-or-death?), but he does lean suspiciously close towards the desk, eyes roving for something throwable, breakable, and preferably explosive (Harry advances to ogling the hard stuff these days) that would have made a nice mess within seconds if not for Caitlin, who shoots him a gaze that actually resembles Killer Frost. It’s the way she holds her shoulders and raises her eyebrows, Cisco thinks while watching Harry disappear in the corridor.

“This isn’t helping,” Iris realizes that this is her team, that she is the Flash too, and that the others actually rely on her to steer them in the right direction. And to talk some hope into them. Some hope and some faith. It’s her responsibility to keep the ship sailing and avoid losing (part of) the crew along the way. “We’ll come up with a plan, okay? Instead of arguing, we should find out what tapes Ralph is talking about. If DeVoe’s on the move, we need to react. This could be our chance.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! I'm super serious about being appreciative of feedback, and I would love to hear your opinion about my fic.  
> I'm not so much interested in content-feedback, like if I got all the facts right, although you can certainly tell me about that as well, but what I want to hear is how the story feels to you - does it match the show's tone, do the characters sound real, is it credible, is it enjoyable or too implicit?  
> What do you like best about it, and what goes through your head while reading it? Did you have a favorite passage or something you laughed at? Let me know.

I'll try to post another scene/chapter soon, because I have it planned out and just need to review and edit but I can't do it right away.  
Let me redirect you to a wonderful fic I read yesterday (totally one of my personal faves now) to provide for your waiting time: It's called "One For The Team" by trufflemores and it's funny, and perfect, and very well-written (as I suppose all of her fics are, even if I haven't read all of them yet.)

Thanks for your time!

Have a great day, guys ✌


	4. Chapter 4

Aw, man. I really had a great idea for this fic and hoped that I could write it but writing is a really hard thing for me at the moment. 

I'm putting it on ice for now since a lot of stuff is happening and my other fic needs a little more attention right now.

So sorry.


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